Abiathar. Not till you know—and strike!
David. I tell you, go.
Abiathar. I tell you 'tis the king.
David. Who breaks forbearance—yes.
Abiathar. Who lieth yonder.
And sleeping lieth—for a thrust to end.
David (his sword quickly out—struggling).
Then shall there be an ending—of these wounds
That wring me—of this wail
Under the deeps of me against his wrongs.
Saul, Saul!... Michal!... Oh, never-ceasing ill!
(Flings down the sword in anguish.)
Abiathar. You will not come?
David. The sun is set.
Abiathar. Has Saul
Hunted you to this desert's verge?